


Inertia

by aniya (pinkaces)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Matrix, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkaces/pseuds/aniya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Before I can tell you anything I must first offer you a choice." He said, quickly, breathily, an edge to his voice that sounded almost like excitement.<br/>"What kind of choice?"<br/>"A choice that, once you have decided, you can never come back from."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inertia

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my lj last October for [aideshou](http://aideshou.livejournal.com)'s fifth challenge and is insofar my longest and most favourite pieces of work to date. It was written in about two weeks in bits and pieces while I was stressing out over it so I apologise if it is spotty/inconsistent anywhere ;;

inertia [ in-ur-shuh ]

_noun_  
1\. inertness, especially with regard to effort, motion,  
action, and the like; inactivity; sluggishness.

_"You take the blue pill - the story ends, you wake up in_  
your bed and believe whatever you want to believe.  
You take the red pill - you stay in Wonderland and I  
show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes." - Morpheus,  
 _The Matrix_

**Part I - Stasis**

Kim Minseok was just another one of the masses; a nameless face in a crowd full of nameless faces. Another single unit of a hive that wouldn't be missed if they disappeared; easily replaced and even more easily forgotten. Disposable, even.

Trapped in the same old routine, waking up to the same drone of the same alarm clock in the same drab, dreary apartment he always woke up in. Dressing in the same variation of the same two-piece suit, travelling through the same desolate scenery during the same commute stuffed like sardines in the same ever-tightening, suffocating tin can. Pushing through the same crowd made up of different, faceless faces, all moving with the same purpose that in actuality didn't hold that significant of a purpose at all. The variations of the same chatter in front of the same old water cooler that never actually cooled the water inside it; only made it a barely noticeable few degrees less than room temperature and left the taste of plastic clinging to the roof of his mouth. The instant coffee that was more water than coffee and did little to keep him awake during the long hours of work that was obviously important for some reason; otherwise he wouldn't be spending 9 hours a day doing it.

Minseok had been working this job for 5 years now, jumping through the hoops of people who had worked there longer than he had, earned more than him and therefore held more power than he did. 5 years of the same routine, waking up at the same time every morning, leaving the house and taking the same route to work, sat in the same office talking to the same people and doing the same monotonous job he'd been doing all day every day. Then returning home, having a slight variation of the same meal, watching the same television and returning to bed at the same time, ready to wake up to do the whole thing all over again.

He liked the routine, he reminded himself every morning. Routine was stability, and comfort. He could live well as long as he kept to his routine; the same thing every day until the day he died.

He had it good, he convinced himself. He never had to worry about not having enough money, slowly buying a new desirable appliance or new television so that he could watch the same mind-numbing TV in mind-numbingly high definition. The black chaise with the off-white accents, the print of some 'abstract' piece of art meant to 'tie everything together'.

And he had himself fooled, for the most part.

Until the weekend arrived.

The weekend was an unsettling break to the routine Minseok lived by. He could bear with the mind-numbing monotony because it gave him no room to think. With no paperwork or mindless chatter to numb his brain he was left with his own, unsettling thoughts.

Because no matter how much he tried to shut himself off during the week, his thoughts always returned at the weekend and with them the unsettling feeling of _wrongness_ that he just could not shake. The feeling of something more, something huge and terrifying and uncertain.

_No_ , Minseok had decided. He was better off not knowing what this something was. Better off being one of the crowd, one of the many, sticking to routine. Safer.

 

**Part II - Asleep**

It was on one Sunday night when Minseok found himself unable to sleep that signalled the beginning of the end. Bouts of insomnia for him weren't uncommon, yet still few and far between. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get his brain to shut off. His could feel adrenaline pumping in his veins, preparing him to run from something he could see or touch. It edged in the recesses of his mind and sent nervous twitches to his fingers and toes.

In the hope to try and numb his mind into rest, he settled on watching TV, infomercials trying to persuade half-awake buyers into wanting shit they didn't need and sitcom reruns with the canned laugh track and the people speaking, over exaggerated and with unnatural pauses for unnatural laughter.

Yet 5am rolled around and Minseok still remained wide awake.

Today, he decided, he'd break his 5 year routine and walk to work.

6am saw him dressed in his usual suit, briefcase in hand as he briskly walked, 5 miles into the city and the high rise office blocks that dwarfed the pavement and reduced the populous down to the size of ants. He had plenty of time, 2 hours to walk the half-hour bus route that wound its way through suburbs, collecting workers as they made their way to their contribution to the world's affairs. How pointless it all was.

600 yards from his office building and Minseok couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed. A ridiculous notion considering he had been joined by more commuters, on their way to their condemned hours in a 5 foot by 5 foot grey square in a room full of 5 by 5 foot squares.

550 yards and he saw him, for a brief moment; sharp black suit, dark sunglasses -- despite it being October and there not being a hint of sun in sight -- obscuring half his face but not hiding the sharp jawline, and gritted teeth. It felt like a bolt of ice had lanced through Minseok's stomach but he kept walking, pretending not to notice. To not to see the man who moved with a sharp grace, far more purposeful and far more deadly than any other person walking down this street.

500 yards and there were two of them; the first to his right, and the second directly behind. Minseok could see them in the shiny reflection of the windows alongside, could feel himself being hemmed in. Panic rose in his throat. He hadn't done anything wrong, he thought to himself. He'd kept his head down, got on with his work, a part of the hive, a nobody. They weren't after him; he was being paranoid, over thinking things. Delusional from sleep deprivation, hallucinating. Everyone else was ignoring them, like they were invisible. No one else looked scared or worried or gave any indication that anything was amiss at all.

450 yards and a figure loomed in front of him. Minseok's heart stopped in his chest, air turning to ice in his lungs as he faltered for a brief moment and he barely had time to react when the figure was before him. Tall, dark-haired, a leather jacket covering his torso, long legs wrapped in dark jeans and feet covered in dark, heavy boots. His hand seized him by the upper arm, fingers long and strong as they wrapped around his bicep and tugged him forcibly down an alleyway he didn't know existed.

This was a part of the city he never entered; it was there, just a metre away from the paths he always walked down, but it was like a whole other world all the same. Minseok tried futilely to tug his arm out of the stranger's grip, but the hand holding his arm was strong and he was unable to break free.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, breath catching in his throat in panic as he was tugged into a run, feet fumbling and tripping as the tall figure before him gave him no answer. They made twists and turns in the network of alleyways and side streets that did nothing but make Minseok feel even more and more lost and even more and more small; a rat trapped in an ever more complicated maze with no exit. And he didn't even know why he was running.

He could hear footsteps behind them, rapid and sending stabbing pang of fear shooting in his chest. Or maybe that was his lungs screaming at him; unused to exercise as strenuous as this after years spent sat in front of a desk or stood on a bus or sat in front of yet another desk.

Then he heard the gunshot.

At least, he assumed it was a gunshot; a loud popping crack made even louder as it echoed off the claustrophobic walls.

_"Shit."_ The figure spoke, barely breathless while Minseok panted and wheezed behind him, chest tightening with anxiety.

"What was that? Where are we going? Was that a _gun_ we just heard?" the questions came in a babble, punctuated by shuddering gasps as the stranger only tugged him to run faster. He tripped again, scrabbling to stay upright and silently cursing himself at his clumsiness.

"Do not ask any questions." The voice was soft, a foreign tinge that Minseok couldn't put his finger on slurring his words. "Ask questions and you are dead. Now run."

_This is a dream,_ he thought, legs burning from exercise he was unused to doing, air pulling and tearing raggedly in his lungs as that hand remained tight on his arm, though looser now as Minseok managed to muster up some more energy from _somewhere_ to keep up, fear and adrenaline lending him speed as he pushed onwards.

Eventually, the gunfire ceased, the footsteps fading behind them as Minseok and the stranger continued to weave through side-alleys far too numerous for him to comprehend; how could a sprawling maze such as this exist just yards from the paths he and so many others walked, unaware of its existence? He stumbled again, and this time the stranger didn't drag him upright again, just slowing slightly as the silence, save for their panting breaths and Minseok's blood rushing in his ears, echoed around them.

"Where are you taking me?" He brought up the nerve to ask again after a few more minutes of heavy breathing, voice small and shaky. The stranger loosened his grip around his bicep and indicated a door to the left that Minseok hadn't noticed at first.

"Here." He said simply, gently directing Minseok to the doorway, hand to the small of Minseok's back. Minseok hesitated, placing his palm carefully on the handle and glancing back at the stranger dubiously.

"Go," he said, waving his hand dismissively, "I'll join you in a moment."

Minseok swallowed and nodded uncertainly; at that moment he didn't really know what else to do, and cautiously tugged at the door handle. If felt rough under his palm, rusting like the door was and it took a few sharp tugs before it finally creaked open. Minseok signed with relief, turning to get one last look at the stranger before he entered, but he'd already disappeared.

Minseok chewed his lip anxiously, deliberating whether to continue in or not. His mind brought forth the image of those men again, walking with a purpose that had sent chills of anxiety shooting down his spine. It was safer if he hid in here, in case they tried looking for him again, he reasoned.

Satisfied with this conclusion, he stepped through the doorway, tugging the door to behind him.

Instantly he was covered in darkness. Minseok froze, eyes wide as they tried to adjust, and slowly dark shapes came into focus. He stiffened again, as slowly he started to make sense of the building he was in, other senses awakening with a sharpening acuity. The room was big, he guessed, judging by the way his breath echoed around him, and it smelled musty, a thick, cloying scent that clung to his nostrils and down the back of his throat. _Cold, too,_ he thought, as he shuddered, his suit jacket not doing much to fight against the sudden chill. As his eyes adjusted even more, he could make out that the dark shapes as they defined themselves into scattered pieces of furniture, broken and mangled on the floor. A warehouse, maybe?

He coughed lightly, shuddering as the noise echoed in the darkness and tentatively moved forwards, into the darkness. The room seemed to lighten as he moved onwards, and a quick glance at the high ceiling showed small holes in its surface through which light peeked through, miniature spotlights that cut hesitantly through the gloom, dust motes swirling in its path.

He didn't see the chair until he almost ran into it, and he stopped, frowning. Something about it seemed... _odd_. It was leather, high-backed and dark, sat facing away from him, and seemed oddly out of place in this setting; a dash of opulent luxury in a dilapidated building.

Hesitantly he touched the back of the chair, confirming it was real -- a small part of his mind seemed to doubt that it was, but then, he often felt a paranoia such as this regularly, a feeling that something wasn't quite right, like screens overlaid but not quite in sync.

He glanced past the chair, moving round it until he encountered another chair, facing opposite the one in front of him. Hesitantly he approached, frowning in confusion. Something about this was sending odd, uneasy ripples through his stomach, but he couldn't quite put his finger on the feeling. He stepped forward a bit more, and a slight snuffle brought his attention to the chair next to him.

He reeled back in shock, finding the chair occupied by the same stranger who'd lead him there. He gazed at him impassively, elbows resting on the armrests of the chair and his fingers steepled neatly before him.

"Sit down, Kim Minseok." The voice was cold and clear, but leaving barely an echo whilst Minseok's every movement was magnified over and over.

Minseok gaped, stumbling back as a million questions ran through his mind; who are you? How did you get here? What is this place? What do you want from me? What do _they_ want from me? How did you know my name? He should have started questioning this man immediately, reason dictated; he'd brought him here, after all, giving no name and no explanation save for the urgency in his movements and the fear for the men with guns that had chased them.

But something about the way this man was looking at him, intense and silent and intimidating, and the strangeness of this whole situation stopped the questions from flowing forth, and so slowly, hesitantly, he moved towards the opposite chair and sat.

 

**Part III - Dreaming**

Minseok shifted in his seat as he stared dubiously around the room. The stranger sat opposite him, watching him intently, almost as if he were waiting for… something.

Minseok squirmed internally under the scrutiny; the stranger's face was carefully blank, impassive, an unmoving mask save for the slow blink of his eyes, rimmed with black. Equally inky hair flopped against his forehead, almost passing into his eyes yet doing nothing to soften their intensity. Minseok coughed slightly, nervously twisting his fingers until he finally plucked up the courage to speak.

"Where is this?" he asked, and the stranger smiled slightly, just a simple lift of the corner of his mouth.

"Try again."

Minseok hesitated, taken about by the quick rebuttal, but changed tack. "Why did you bring me here?"

There was a pause, the stranger's lips pursing ever so slightly, "To keep you safe, for now."

"Safe from what?"

"You know what."

"Who are you?"

"You'll learn soon enough."

"Who were they?" Minseok asked, breathless as he stared at the stranger in front of him. He smiled, a satisfied smile, and Minseok guessed that he'd finally asked the right question. He couldn't help but be reminded of a shark when he looked at the stranger; eyes glittering, mouth bared to show rows of teeth, rounded yet menacing all the same. This stranger may not have as many, but the dangerous flint in his eye, the feral curl of his lips was enough to send shivers down his spine.

The stranger leant forwards, crossing his arms across his knees as he stared at Minseok with a burning intensity and Minseok found himself shrinking back a little in response. "Men -- if you can call them men -- who want something from you."

Minseok opened his mouth, about to ask just what, exactly this _something_ was, but the stranger cut him off before he could speak.

"Before I can tell you anything I must first offer you a choice." He said, quickly, breathily, an edge to his voice that sounded almost like excitement as he straightened, business-like again.

"What kind of choice?"

"A choice that, once you have decided, you can never come back from." Those eyes, dark and depthless and cold bore into Minseok as he swallowed nervously, tongue peeking out just briefly to wet his lips.

"And that will be...?"

The stranger shifts, a quick movement, barely noticeable except one moment his hands are curled at his knees and the next they are fists, held out in front of him.

"You choose," he uncurled his left fist, revealing, nestled neatly in the centre of his palm, a small vial filled with a brilliant blue liquid. The surface trembling slightly as the inside curled, clouded in ever-shifting patterns. "Either you forget, return to being Kim Minseok, pressing the same buttons day after day like a lab rat until you keel over and die-" Minseok shuddered at that, the edge of venom that had entered the stranger's voice; distaste.

"Or-" the other hand uncurled, revealing another vial identical to the first, but this one contained a liquid that was a brilliant, bright red, "you choose the truth, why you feel that constant feeling that something isn't quite right. That isn't paranoia, Minseok," Minseok stared at him, feeling his throat tightening and tightening and his chest constricting as the stranger continued to stare him down. "That's the edges of the truth. The edges of a reality that you cannot even begin to fathom."

Minseok hesitated, looking between the vials sat unobtrusively in the stranger's hands. Red or blue. Ignorance or truth. Truth or ignorance. The monotony of routine or the spontaneity of the unknown. A choice too big to choose so quickly and yet…

"I have to choose now?" the stranger nodded, restrained and tight-lipped.

"You don't have the luxury of time any more, Mr Kim. If you try to leave you will be dead, or worse. Whatever you choose from these, you will live. But what life will you choose?" he tilted the vials closer, and Minseok drew back, chewing his lip.

Really, it wasn't much of a decision; he was tired of monotony, of living the same life over and over and over again, day after day after day with no pause, no variation. Alive but not really _living_.

He looked up at the stranger; he'd already made his choice. Maybe it never even had _been_ a choice. But first, he had one thing to ask;

"What's your name?"

The stranger smiled; he knew what Minseok's decision would be. Maybe he always had, before Minseok even knew himself.

"You can call me Tao."

Minseok nodded once, then reached out and plucked the red vial delicately from Tao's open palm. Tao smiled, a look of satisfaction on his features.

The die had been cast. There was no going back now.

 

**Part IV - Awakening**

Minseok wasn't sure what happened after he drank the contents of the red vial; his memory failed him save for a confusing blur of sounds and unknown faces, the twist of wires and machinery and a sharp pain of a needle in his arm. He remembered panic, his chest tightening and tightening until he felt like he was going to explode or else crumple inwards.

And then there was darkness, for a period he was unsure of just how long.

Consciousness crept back slowly, filling the edges of his mind, and the first thing he became aware of was a burning ache in his chest, claustrophobic and suffocating.

He couldn't breathe.

Panic gripped him as his eyes shot open and he tried to drag air into his lungs but instead choked around something obstructing his throat.

Frantic, his hands scrabbled at his face, encountering something cold and solid over his mouth. He tried to scream but it was muffled, and his arms flailed out in front of him until they encountered a strange surface, springy and membrane-like. A further struggle and he managed to rip through.

With some difficulty he managed to pull himself up into a sitting position, something cold and wet sliding against his limbs, which felt tired and leaden and lethargic with every movement. Another failed intake of breath brought his attention back to the obstruction in his throat and he grappled at the contraption again, pulling and pulling as something long and tubular was pulled out, scraping the insides of his throat with a burning pain that never seemed to end.

The contraption fell from his hands as he gasped, breathing in thin air as his lungs ached and his chest screamed with pain. His ears were full of roaring and crackling and the air thick with ozone. Eyes wide and blinking as liquid dripped from his face.

Slowly, he lifted his head, squinting as his eyes tried to adjust. Seeing but not quite comprehending the sight before him; tower upon tower with row upon row of pods, identical to the one he was sat in now, each with its own iridescent red glow and long enough to comfortably hold a full-grown adult with room to spare. They stretched out as far as he could see; above him, below, in front, to the left and the right, identical pods each housing, from what he could see of the ones close to him, a human being. The air hummed with electricity as sparks climbed up the structures like spiders.

Minseok froze in shock, gazing at the barren landscape before him, the dark cloudy sky above him. This just had to be another dream; one that was terrifyingly real, sure. But soon, he'll wake up. He'll be back in his apartment with the accepted furniture and the abstract prints, back to the comforting, dull routine.

But it was bright. Too bright. Minseok shut his eyes again, his brain screaming at him as it was overloaded; dead senses and nerves coming to life in a blinding barrage of colour and sight and sound and touch and smell. His skin tingled from the electricity and the smell flooded his nose and throat. He didn't notice the machine until it was in front of him, almost spiderlike as shockingly cold metal closing over his throat and he was overtaken by pure, blind panic. Pain lanced from the back of his head, down his arms and spine and suddenly he was falling. Released from the machine's grip and tumbling, down, down, nerves screaming at him as he was bumped and bruised and then the shock of hitting water.

He wasn't sure if him reaching up, weakly, pale arm extending as far as he could stretch, hoping for someone to help him, was a delusion of his conscious or reality; neither was he sure if the hand that reached down, clutching around his wrist, strong and reassuring and familiar was just another figment of his addled mind. He just barely remembered the feeling of being lifted, coarse fabric shifting against his sensitive skin and a sudden feeling of warmth. The muffled murmur of voices he couldn't distinguish.

And then everything went mercifully black.

 

**Part V - Awake**

Time lost its sway in the 'real world' -- no matter how hard he tried Xiumin could never quite think of 'real world' without the quotations. Days were measured not by the rising and falling of the sun; the earth had long since been deprived of that luxury, but instead by the hair that slowly grew across Xiumin's scalp once again. He found the sensation strange; initially he'd been freaked by the lack of hair when he'd first awakened -- like a new-born baby -- but now he couldn't help the strange feeling as it slowly grew back.

Tao kept his hair short, he noticed. And when he'd asked he'd replied shortly, upper torso buried amongst the engines of his ship.

"Long hair gets in the way of being plugged in."

Xiumin shuddered at that reply; no matter the disappointment that Tao always failed to hide in his eyes, Xiumin refused to return to the Matrix -- the dream world he and most all of the other human beings on the planet had been trapped in; getting out was bad enough, constantly moving between reality and the machine-manufactured dream world would be too much.

Instead, he busied himself with helping out however he could; acting as courier not just to Tao, but to the captains of the other ships as well. He found himself staring at people as they walked by, comparing the 'home grown' humans to the 'manufactured' ones. He shuddered at the terminology, the thought that his existence had come into being purely as a power supply for the machines making knots form in his stomach. The plugs embedded in his skin, and Tao's and Chen's and all the other people who had been trapped in the Matrix served as a permanent reminder to their former enslavement.

Xiumin envied those born in the 'real world', for they had the luxury of being born free; they didn't have the echoes of what once had been etched permanently into the backs of their minds. They only belong to one reality, while he was trapped yearning for a reality that didn't exist, yet too scared to re-enter.

Tao seemed disappointed by that decision, and to be honest Xiumin couldn't blame him. Tao had spent weeks tracking him down, risked his life to bring him out. Tao had thought that Xiumin would be of more use, more powerful. The disappointment when that turned out to be false must have been crushing, but Tao kept any bitterness he may have harboured well-hidden.

The days, weeks, however long it was after he'd 'awakened' were mostly a blur; he remembered fading in and out of consciousness, each scene changing as he drifted in and out of darkness. When he'd finally woken he'd been in clothes unfamiliar to him; loose and coarse and obviously handmade. Tao had glanced up from his seat by his bedside, and Minseok had been jolted by how… _different_ he looked. The clothes he'd worn previously had been fitted, yet these hung from his frame, too big and shapeless. The most startling was his hair; shaved almost completely and the difference was startling; he looked more menacing, somehow. Older.

"So, you're finally awake." There was an edge to Tao's voice that he couldn't identify, so he'd just nodded, even though it hadn't been a question and thus hadn't necessarily required an answer, but he felt slow and dazed and confused.

Tao smirked then, straightening and getting to his feet. "Come on, we'll be arriving soon."

"Arriving?" Minseok managed to reply, voice hoarse and croaky -- from disuse, he supposed, and wobbled to his feet. Tao watched him with some amusement as he tried to gain some balance, and Minseok couldn't help the scowl that childishly crossed his features.

"Back home." Tao replied, catching Minseok's arm and holding him steady as he almost tripped over his own feet. "Careful, you haven't used your legs before."

Minseok paused at that, then nodded again as he finally found his balance and followed Tao out of the cabin.

He kept close, almost hiding behind Tao as they moved through the ship. Tao raised an eyebrow at him but made no comment, and for that Minseok was grateful. They stopped when they reached what looked like a huge control room, empty save for another male, his hair as short as Tao's and with prominent cheekbones.

"This is the bridge." Tao announced, looking at Minseok as he gazed, wide-eyed at the array of screens and wires and the chairs arranged in a circle. "And this," Minseok snapped his attention back to Tao, then at the male Tao was gesturing to, "is Chen. The rest of the crew are preparing for docking, you'll see them later." Minseok nodded dumbly, bowing slightly at Chen in greeting. The other smiled shortly then turned his attention back to the mess of wires in front of him.

"Come on, let's get you something to eat." Minseok nodded again, shuffling after Tao as he strode across the bridge and down another corridor, movements lithe and graceful.

He couldn't help the little pang of envy as he watched him. Tao was so sure, so in control of his movements and Minseok felt like an awkward newborn foal in comparison.

\---

Later, after they'd disembarked and Tao had shown Minseok to his room. It was carved out of the stone walls that made up the city, and as it arched up and up and up until it hit the roof, it curved overhead as stalactites hung downwards, like needles that could drop at any moment. Minseok shuddered at how precarious it was; the central ring housing the docks were too important, so he'd learnt, for it to be destroyed.

It was strange how relaxed Tao became when they'd entered; in the Matrix he'd been tense, always on edge. Understandable considering any false move would have agents on your trail. In his ship he was strict, having to remain assertive and cold to keep the crew in check. Minseok noticed how young he seemed, how there was an edge of uncertainty in his actions, barely perceptible but there all the same. But he bit his lip to restrain himself from asking. Now though, he'd flopped onto a chair, a look of bliss on his face as Minseok carefully navigated the room, peering around as he took stock of the space that was now his.

"Comfy?" he asked, casting a glance at Tao's form as the other let out a long sigh, settling further into the chair.

"Mm." he responded, but then went silent. Minseok huffed as he poked his head into the washroom, then, satisfied with his exploration, went back to Tao and nudged his leg with his foot.

Tao opened one eye and regarded Minseok for a moment, "you're finished looking around?"

Minseok nodded and shrugged, "I guess."

A wide grin crossed Tao's features, taking Minseok aback as he quickly got to his feet.

"Good, I want to show you something," he said, grabbing Minseok's wrist and dragging him out of the room.

"Where are you taking me now?" Minseok whined, as Tao pulled him back to the elevator.

"You'll see," came the reply as they alighted, the large steel large door sliding shut.

Minseok huffed, resigning himself to being dragged around for the time being. There was a lightness in Tao's step that had been absent previously, as he bounced on the balls of his feet as the elevator carried them upwards.

"How old are you?" the question came out before he had a chance to stop it, and Tao faltered, movements ceasing as he leant back against the wall of the elevator, freeing Minseok's wrist. Minseok cursed inwardly, about to take it back when Tao answered.

"Nineteen."

"Nineteen?" Minseok asked, incredulous, and Tao nodded. They had a three year age-gap between them, but it felt much so smaller. Tao had had to grow up quickly, he realised. "How long have you been out?"

Tao laughed -- more of a scoff, voice bitter, "three years."

Minseok gaped at him and Tao shrugged. "Come on," he said, subdued now as he tugged at the elder's wrist as the elevator ground to a halt. Minseok stared at the back of Tao's head as they walked, feeling a newfound sense of respect yet also a strange urge to protect him. Which was absurd; Tao was far more experienced in this whole mess than Minseok; three years more experienced, in fact.

He wasn't even paying attention to where they were going, just following in Tao's wake as he strode confidently through the maze of passages and corridors, ducking into a room and then out the other end until he finally came to a halt.

"Here." He said, smile back in place as Minseok gasped. Above them, close enough for him to reach up and touch if he stretched far enough, was the ceiling of the city. In front of them a steel railing, rough in its structure yet sturdy -- just like everything else in the city -- was all that stopped anyone from falling.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Tao asked, voice oddly hushed, reverent even, as he neared the railing and gazed down. Minseok agreed reservedly; there was a strange, unconventional kind of beauty to the city. The rising walls filled with row upon row of platforms dotted with doors to other people's homes, all cramped together. At the same time though, it reminded him of the field full of the pods of humans who remained in their machine-created dream world. But even that had been beautiful, in a terrifying way.

"It's strange…" Tao murmured, almost to himself. As he gazed out with glazed eyes.

"What is?"

"It's only been three years, but it feels like the life I had before… before I became Tao was so long ago." Minseok wasn't sure how to respond to that, taken aback by Tao's sudden change in mood. So instead he chewed his lip, mulling over that one part, _"before I became Tao."_

Tao shook his head, the glazed expression clearing as he waved a hand dismissively at Minseok. "Ignore me, sorry. I'm thinking out lo-"

"Tao isn't your real name?" Minseok interrupted, and Tao hesitated, hand falling back to his side.

"No." he sighed, stepping closer to the railing, "It's an alias. A name I chose to go by after I woke up." He clarified.

"What… what is - was - your real name then?"

Tao sighed, resting his arms against the steel railing as he gazed out unseeingly down below, to the array of bridges and structures that made up the dock.

"In the Matrix, before I woke up I was Huang Zitao." He murmured finally.

"You aren't Korean?"

"I'm Chinese."

Minseok nodded at that; it explained the foreign lilt in his voice. "Where were you from?" he asked. Tao looked at him with a raised eyebrow, resting his head on his arms.

"Which city, I mean." He clarified and Tao rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Why does it matter?"

Minseok hesitated, eyeing Tao as he stared, face set in its usual blank mask.

"I... Was just wondering, is all." He spoke softly, and Tao sighed, suddenly looking far more like his age; young and vulnerable.

"What's the use? The city I once knew no longer exists. Just like your Seoul doesn't exist anymore."

Minseok nodded to himself, leaning against the railing himself and gazing down and his chest tightened. Having it put so bluntly…

"Sorry." He muttered, and Tao shook his head.

"It's okay." Minseok glanced at Tao, trying to read his expression but it was impassive, as always.

Minseok sighed and returned his gaze back to below, swallowing the feeling of nausea that overcame him. He'd never really been all that fond of heights.

"You can change your name too, you know."

"Huh?" Minseok lifted his head to stare at Tao again and he smiled at him, small and restrained.

"Change your name. Not many people here know you yet. You can give yourself a new identity for a new life." He shrugged one shoulder.

Minseok considered this for a moment, then sighed in defeat. "I wouldn't know what to change it to, though." He admitted.

Tao paused, pursing his lips in thought. Silence fell between then, stretching out as a slight semblance of a breeze played against their skin. Minseok shivered.

"Xiumin."

"Eh?"

"How about Xiumin?"

Minseok frowned, chewing his thumbnail briefly. "Xiumin?"

"Yeah."

Minseok repeated it again under his breath while Tao looked at him, amused. Minseok ignored him, rolling the name of his tongue. He liked the whispering 'shhh' at the beginning, soft at first as it flowed into the next syllable.

"What does it mean?" he asked, and Tao smiled wider, a look of satisfaction on his features.

"Whatever you want it to." Tao smiled, pushing off of the railing and turning back. "I'm going to bed now," he announced, "come on, I'll take you back down to your room."

Xiumin cast a final glance down, then turned away from the railing. Tao took his wrist again and Xiumin nodded. "Okay."

\---

Slowly, Xiumin grew used to living in the underground city. It was different and exhausting, but it lacked the monotony and routine of the life he had previously which, in his eyes at least, was an improvement.

Tao had tried to insist on Xiumin joining his ship for their trips through the underground systems just underneath the fields of human batteries, but he'd given up after Xiumin remained adamant that he would stay in the city. However, any free time Tao had whenever he returned was spent in Xiumin's company. Xiumin wasn't quite sure why Tao decided to spend his free time with him; he didn't find himself remotely interesting, but Tao was content to just sit in silence in Xiumin's room until night time, when he'd return in his own quarters.

So what did take him by surprise was one evening, several hours after the lights had gone out in the city, save of the dull red glow of emergency lights, was when a knock sounded at his door. Frowning, Xiumin had set the book he'd been reading -- books were a rare commodity now, but he'd managed to procure a couple from the library buried deeper underground than the city proper -- onto the arm of his chair as he stood and went to answer it.

What he wasn't expecting was Tao to stagger in, inelegant and clumsy, as if his limbs were dead weights. His eyes were unfocused and he almost fell to the floor when Xiumin bemusedly allowed him to stagger into the room. Hurriedly, he closed the door and scampered to support Tao before he went crashing to the floor, gently leading him over to his bed and pushing him to sit down.

Tao flumped forwards, head lolling and Xiumin hesitated, biting his lip, unsure what to do. Tao decided for him when he lifted his head, eyes bloodshot and drooping, and grabbed Xiumin's wrist and pulled him down to sit next to him. Xiumin dutifully sat, frowning at Tao in concern as he leant heavily against him with a sigh. Xiumin stiffened, unsure how to react to this uncharacteristic behaviour as he saw Tao's eyes slowly start to droop closed.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, hesitantly patting Tao's back. Tao sighed again, a long, slow exhale and wriggled closer into Xiumin's side.

"Tired." He mumbled, almost inaudible and Xiumin raised an eyebrow at that.

"What's wrong with your room?"

"Yours is closer." Xiumin had to strain to hear him properly, Tao's accent had thickened, words slurring together in exhaustion.

"The run was that bad?" he murmured and Tao gave a soft mumble in assent.

Xiumin huffed, clenching a fist as Tao tried to burrow deeper against his chest. Usually the ship teams were gone for a couple of weeks at a time, yet recently they'd been in the field for longer and longer periods. A month, sometimes even more. The longer the ships spent out of the relative safety of the city, the greater their chances of being discovered became. Tao had been gone for almost three months now, and Xiumin would have been lying if he hadn't started to get worried.

"Tao," he said softly, nudging the younger with his shoulder. He grumbled, but his head lifted lightly and he took that as an indication to carry on, "when did you get back?"

"Just now." Tao replied sleepily, and Xiumin felt his eyes widen at that. Usually Tao would retreat to his own room to sleep after he'd returned, so he was at least fairly alert when they were together. Seeing him this exhausted, this incoherent, was new entirely.

Xiumin regarded Tao warily, deciding that he was in no state to go to his own room on his own, and Xiumin was certainly not strong enough to carry him there. Huffing in exasperation, he gently pushed Tao to lie down and stood up. Tao whined quietly in protest before snuggling down in the blanket, opening an eye to regard Xiumin as he stood with his hands on his hips.

"Why do you have to be so difficult," Xiumin muttered under his breath, bending down and grabbing one of Tao's feet, tugging at the buckles of his boots to pull them off. Tao lay still, unhelpful as Xiumin struggled for a couple minutes, finally pulling off one boot, then the other with a satisfied yell of triumph.

Tao snorted in restrained laughter, earning a smack on the arm with one of his boots and he pouted, rolling further onto the bed while Xiumin took Tao's shoes to the door.

When he returned Tao had already managed to tug his shirt off, now only a thin undershirt covering his torso as he snuggled up against the pillow with a sigh of contentment. Xiumin stifled a laugh, reminded of a cat as Tao stretched out, fingertips brushing the wall at the head of his bed and his toes pressed against the opposite wall.

"So you're going to steal my bed are you?" Xiumin huffed, poking Tao's side and the younger squirmed away with a muffled squeal, peeking at Xiumin over his arm with a cheeky, yet tired grin on his face.

"Comfy," he mumbled, and Xiumin rolled his eyes, turning and steeling himself to settle asleep on his chair for tonight.

"Where are you going?" Tao's voice was small, childish even and Xiumin glanced back. Tao struggled to sit up, reaching over with one hand with a beseeching look in his eyes.

Xiumin gestured lamely at his chair and Tao wiggled his fingers in response, eyes pleading.

"Stay? Please?" Tao asked, and he sounded so childish and pathetic and all Xiumin wanted to do was wrap him up and make sure he was safe. Xiumin sighed, defeated and plodded over. Tao smiled at him, grabbing Xiumin's arm when he moved within reach. Xiumin sat down, tugging the blanket out from under Tao's body before flopping onto his back.

Instantly, Tao curled up beside him, wrapping his arms around Xiumin's torso and snuggling down with a sigh. Xiumin lay stiffly for a few moments, blanket in his hands as he stared at the younger. He'd seemed so childish and vulnerable in exhaustion, the tough façade peeling away to reveal someone so childlike. It threw him, unused to the younger being like this.

He shook his head, and the thoughts, away for the time being, tossing the blanket over the two of them and shifting to get comfortable. Tao murmured in dissent as his position was shifted, eyes cracking open for a brief moment and then sliding shut once again. Within moments he was asleep, breathing deep and even and fingers twitching slightly.

It took longer for sleep to claim Xiumin, but soon he too, drifted into slumber.

\---

After that night, Tao rarely left Xiumin's room whenever he came back except to attend meetings with the captains of the other ships. He often complained of how boring they were, and the arguments that were thrown back and forth before he finally collapsed onto Xiumin's bed and curled up by his side, one arm thrown over Xiumin's torso as his slowly lengthening hair tickled his side. Xiumin started to find it comforting, and found that he always had restless nights for the weeks when Tao was gone. The nights when Tao was there were the most restful Xiumin had.

Xiumin had settled into this new life, sure. But there were times when he couldn't help but miss what he'd left behind.

He missed the food; his repetitive meals were still miles better than the slop that made up his diet now. He missed his routine, and not living in constant fear of their tentative city being discovered. He missed the coffee that was more water than coffee, the dull commute, his small, lonely apartment. He even missed not having someone else to worry about, even though they were capable of looking after themselves. He'd never held so much affection towards someone else like this before, and it was exhausting, in a good sort of way.

Sometimes he'd find himself lying awake on his bed during 'night-time', gazing up at the stone ceiling in silence save for Tao's deep, regular breathing beside him, and wondering.

What would have happened if he'd chosen the blue vial?

Would he have preferred ignorance and routine over the truth and reality, however bad it may be?

And every time, as he turned to gaze at Tao's face, peaceful and serene in slumber as it never was when he was awake, stroking gentle fingertips across Tao's cheeks, he decided.

No, he wouldn't.

**Author's Note:**

> [this gif](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m8o15dyzru1qbkauho1_500.gif) was used as a prompt and huge thanks to karen and lea for their cheerleading/betaing/support etc <3


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